by Layla Hagen
Say You’re Mine
Layla Hagen
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Say You’re Mine
Copyright © 2020 Layla Hagen
Cover: Uplifting Designs
Photography: Regina Wamba
Copyright ©2020 Layla Hagen
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Copyright Page
Chapter One | Brayden
Chapter Two | Isabelle
Chapter Three | Isabelle
Chapter Four | Brayden
Chapter Five | Isabelle
Chapter Six | Isabelle
Chapter Seven | Isabelle
Chapter Eight | Isabelle
Chapter Nine | Brayden
Chapter Ten | Isabelle
Chapter Eleven | Isabelle
Chapter Twelve | Brayden
Chapter Thirteen | Brayden
Chapter Fourteen | Isabelle
Chapter Fifteen | Brayden
Chapter Sixteen | Isabelle
Chapter Seventeen | Brayden
Chapter Eighteen | Isabelle
Chapter Nineteen | Isabelle
Chapter Twenty | Isabelle
Chapter Twenty-One | Brayden
Chapter Twenty-Two | Brayden
Chapter Twenty-Three | Isabelle
Chapter Twenty-Four | Isabelle
Chapter Twenty-Five | Brayden
Chapter Twenty-Six | Isabelle
Chapter Twenty-Seven | Isabelle
Chapter Twenty-Eight | Brayden
Chapter Twenty-Nine | Five weeks later | Isabelle
Epilogue
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Chapter One
Brayden
Sasha had asked us to the meeting room in the label’s offices in Manhattan, which was a clear sign that she meant business. We only ever came here for three reasons: if a record underperformed, they were bringing a new person on the team... or to be scolded. Our team was complete, but the new album had barely come out, and Sasha had confided in me that the execs at the label weren’t happy with sales. The guys were also aware. Thomas, Lars, Harvey, and I were very tight. We’d formed GreenFire twelve years ago, when we were nothing but a bunch of college freshmen at NYU sharing a passion for music. We exploded on the international scene four years later. Ever since, we’ve topped charts in the US and abroad.
It’s been a roller coaster. We usually went along with whatever Sasha had to say, because she was our manager and had our back. We’d been backstabbed often enough to appreciate when we finally had someone who had our best interests in mind.
We hadn’t been to the meeting room in quite a while. We spent most of our time at the cottage, where we did everything from rehearsing to training to hosting parties. Now being in this building again, near Central Park, had me and the guys a little unnerved.
Sasha led us through the back door, as usual, and straight inside an elevator that brought us directly to the eleventh floor. The label only had offices on three floors; the rest of the building was full of offices of various kinds. I didn’t know how she pulled it off, but we never ran into a single person when we came here. Of course, we always had a security detail with us, just in case. Today’s bodyguard, Damien, remained at the door of the meeting room.
“As I told Brayden, the execs think the record sales should be better,” Sasha started.
We were now seated around a large walnut conference table in the meeting room with a view of Central Park. With her blonde hair pulled into a strict ponytail and the black-rimmed glasses, Sasha always appeared older than she was. She was the same age as me, thirty.
We were not an easy bunch to handle. Lars was the most hotheaded of the group, though Harvey balanced him out. Thomas used to be as hotheaded as Lars, but he’s calmer since he got married five years ago.
“Let’s release another single, then. Give people more of a taste,” I suggested. We’d only released three so far.
“No, they don’t think that’s going to help. They think your image as a band needs to change a little. You need to be more approachable.”
Lars cocked a brow. “Why?”
Sasha straightened the collar of her shirt. “Well, the research they conducted among your fans says they feel disconnected from you as a band. We live in the communication era, where everyone posts constantly about their life. Your fans expect that.”
“We like our privacy,” I said in a measured tone. We’d always been different from other rock bands: no drugs or scandals. At the height of our fame, everyone had wanted a piece of us. We didn’t like that, so we chose to keep a low profile when it came to our personal life. We owed our fans good music, nothing else.
“You don’t have to give that up,” she assured us.
“Then how exactly are we supposed to be more approachable?”
Sasha drummed her fingers on the table. “We don’t have clear answers. But I’ve asked a very skilled counselor to join us here today. We won’t be employing her counseling services, but she has a lot of experience with behavioral perception. I thought it might be more useful than a simple PR plan. It’s no pressure, just a first meeting.”
The guys started protesting all at once. I stared at Sasha, who stared right back with her “You’re in charge” look.
“We thought you’d want us to make more appearances,” Thomas said, voicing my thoughts.
“This will be more helpful. I’m going to bring her in.” She rose from her chair and left the room. She’d told me she wanted to try something out of the box, but I hadn’t paid attention. I needed time to process this and then sell it to the guys. She always called me the voice of reason in the group, but right now I was just as pissed as the others. We needed a heads-up before she threw this kind of stuff at us. They were going to eviscerate whoever came through that door.
Knowing Sasha, I probably had about thirty seconds to maintain order. I faced the guys.
“Let’s all calm down and listen to whatever they have to say.”
“Sasha hired a babysitter. I’m feeling the opposite of calm,” Harvey said.
“No, she’s bringing on a professional,” I said as coolly as possible. “Sasha’s never steered us wrong. Let’s give this, whatever it is, a shot.”
No one was buying my speech. I wasn’t buying it either. Yes, she’d never steered us wrong, but this was the first time she decided something like that without extensively discussing it with us first. I didn’t like it.
I turned toward the door when I heard voices on the other side. Sasha came in first, followed by a woman with waist-long hair that was so vibrantly red, it was all I could see for a few seconds. Then the rest of her came into focus. I fixated on her lips—full and pouty, like she was permanently ready to dish out sass. Her eyes were huge and brown and so expressive that I was sure she’d be an open book if we made eye contact long enough, but she averted her gaze quickly. She was tiny enough that I could lift her over my sho
ulder with one arm—I guess she’d be what you’d call petite. Her black dress touched her knees and had long sleeves that covered her arms, but her shoulders were on display. It made me want to step closer and drum my fingers from one to the other slowly, watching her reaction.
“Boys, this is Isabelle Gallagher. Isabelle, meet GreenFire. Thomas, Lars, Harvey... and Brayden. Forgive me. It’s my fault they’re all throwing daggers with their eyes at you. They were expecting a different kind of meeting.”
“Oh good, then I’m not the only one blindsided by the job description,” Isabelle said with a cheeky smile. I’d been right about her being sassy.
“Isabelle. Welcome!” I walked up to her, extending my hand. I wasn’t usually a hand shaker, but I wanted an excuse to see her up close. She was a beautiful woman in the most surprising ways. The round shape of her eyes was mesmerizing. She only briefly shook my hand.
“Nice to meet you, Brayden. All of you, in fact. I only found out yesterday that I’ll be working with you.”
“That’s still up in the air,” Lars said from behind me.
Isabelle gave Lars a polite smile, but her eyes flashed. “Yes, apparently so. Can’t say I’ve worked with anyone against their will until now, but let’s see what we can do.”
“If we go forward with this, it won’t be against our will,” I assured her.
“Good. Would make my job a lot easier, thank you,” she replied.
I couldn’t remember the last time I didn’t meet a woman who was tongue-tied in front of me, or eager to get an autograph from any of us. Isabelle Gallagher merely seemed curious, which in turn sparked my interest. I pulled out the chair next to me, motioning for her to sit down.
She lowered herself onto the seat. My thumbs brushed the smooth skin on her shoulder blades when she leaned back. I didn’t miss her sharp intake of breath.
I glared at the others as I sat down, deciding to take the lead on this. That was the only way I could keep the guys in check.
“Sasha, why don’t you tell us what Isabelle’s job description is? You didn’t have a chance to explain that earlier.”
“Of course. She’s basically going to be advising us how to best give your fans what they want, but on your terms. PR professionals usually come to us with checklists about what you have to do without taking your personalities into account. I want Isabelle to make a psychological profile of each of you in conjunction with how the fans see you, how they relate to each of you. As someone new to GreenFire—”
“Wait a second. She doesn’t even know who we are?” Lars exclaimed.
“Lars!” I said in a warning tone. “Let Sasha explain.”
Isabelle sat up straighter. “The job posting didn’t mention who you are, probably to protect your privacy. I only found out the name of the band when I got the email inviting me here. I’ve heard the name GreenFire before, of course, in passing, but I can’t say I’m familiar with your music. But this is going to allow me to bring in a fresh perspective.” She waved her hand as if she couldn’t care less about our music. I could practically feel the guys’ anger building. All I wanted to do was laugh. I’d never met someone so unimpressed by us. It only made me want to get to know her better. I liked her confidence.
“So what exactly will this entail?” I asked.
“She’ll meet with you individually, and as a group, to find out more about you. What motivates you, what’s important to you—”
“I don’t have time for this.” Thomas stood up.
“Thomas, sit down!” I said through gritted teeth.
He grunted, looking at the others, silently asking them to back him up, but no one did. Reluctantly, he sat back down.
“And why don’t you do that?” I asked Sasha.
“Because I don’t have her expertise, and because I’ve been with you boys for a long time. I have a skewed perception of what the fans want GreenFire to be. Having an outsider’s perspective will not only help us maintain your existing fanbase but appeal to new audiences as well.”
That sort of made sense, especially since we hadn’t been doing anything differently since we entered the music scene, but I still didn’t get why we needed any of this. We could figure this out on our own... I think.
But I wanted to find out where this would lead, exactly. Though I also knew I couldn’t keep the guys’ temper in check for too long. We were musicians; we had people to manage our marketing, fanbase, and all the other stuff we didn’t want to deal with.
I didn’t want Isabelle to get caught in the crossfire, so I turned to them.
“Guys, I’ll stay here with Sasha and Isabelle to discuss the details. If you want to go back to the cottage, you can take the car. Paul can come back for me when we’re done, and Sasha and I can tell you everything later.”
They were out the door in a matter of seconds—no surprise. Sasha left with them, escorting them to the car, leaving me alone with Isabelle.
“I can show you some work I did for other clients,” she said, taking out an iPad from her bag. I leaned in closer, watching the screen. I heard yet another sharp intake of breath. Her fingers were shaking lightly as she tapped a folder titled Portfolio.
So I did affect her. Did it make me a bastard that I felt triumphant? I was used to women wanting me because I was the lead singer of GreenFire. It was one of the reasons why I hadn’t dated seriously in years. Fame and relationships didn’t blend at all. I’d learned that the hard way when the woman I thought was in love with me betrayed me.
But Isabelle was different. She didn’t care about the band. She was responding to me, and that was refreshing and real. It was intoxicating to watch her react to me like this.
“So, the name of the company is, of course, blurred out because I signed NDAs. But as you can see, I made profiles for their shoppers.”
She pointed to a slide with four stock pictures and a series of attributes beneath each one.
“This process is frequently used for market research. I have to say it’s the first time I’ve been asked to make profiles of the employers themselves. It’s a bit different.”
“Isabelle, I have a proposition for you,” I said after a few slides.
She looked up at me. “I’m listening.”
“The whole team is going bowling tonight. Join us.”
“Why?” The way she cocked her head to the side almost undid me.
“Because I’ll have time to talk to the guys. You’ll get a better idea of what you’re getting yourself into.”
“Oh, I already know it’s a lion’s den, and you’re the leader.” She smirked.
I wanted to kiss that feisty mouth. I looked at her lips long enough for her to notice. She parted them, licking the lower one.
“They’re usually friendlier than this,” I assured her, leaning farther away. “Come with us at bowling. I promise it’ll be worth your time.”
She cocked a brow, running her hand through her red hair. I could tell she was weighing the pros and cons. At best, the boys were going to be civil. At worst, they’d be even more obnoxious than they were today. I had to sweeten the offer.
“I’ll make you a deal. Come with us tonight and at least you’ll get to interview me, or whatever it is you need to do.”
She tilted her head, and that red mane cascaded over her right shoulder. It was shiny and silky, and I wanted to know how it would feel wrapped around my fingers.
“That’s a boring deal,” she countered.
I burst out laughing. “Okay, then tell me what works for you.”
“I do want to talk to you, but nothing as elaborate as an interview. Just to get a feeling for everything and see if this job is the right fit for me.”
“The right fit for you? You’re testing us?”
“No, just you for now. The rest didn’t seem to even want to look at me.”
“I like you, Isabelle. No one’s given us as much shit in years as you did in a few minutes.”
She blinked, her teasing smile fading slight
ly. “I’m not giving you shit. I’m sorry if it came across that way. But I am self-employed and run my own show, so I don’t take on jobs likely to cause me a headache.”
Which was when I realized this was her way of doing things: very direct and honest. She had zero tolerance for bullshit or bad attitudes, and why should she do otherwise? This was a job to her, her livelihood. I was so used to people fawning over us that this felt surreal.
“No one’s going to give you a headache. I’ll take care of that.”
Her eyes widened, and a slight blush crept onto her cheeks. It gave me immense pleasure that I’d managed to rattle her the way she’d done me this whole morning.
“Okay. I’ll join you.” She looked as if she wanted to add something else, but Sasha entered the room.
“Sorry it took me so long,” she exclaimed. She probably took a lot of flak from the guys, but Sasha was tough. I was sure she held her own.
“Good news. I’ve convinced Isabelle here to join us for bowling and drinks,” I said without taking my eyes off Isabelle. She fidgeted in her spot.
“Oh, perfect,” Sasha exclaimed. “I kind of feared the guys had already scared you away.”
“Brayden can be very persuasive,” Isabelle said.
“I promised it’ll be worth her while, and I’ll make good on it.”
Something told me Isabelle Gallagher was a challenge unlike anything I’d ever encountered. And I couldn’t wait to get closer to her.
Chapter Two
Isabelle
“I still can’t believe we’re all finally living in the same city,” I told my brothers, taking a slice of scalding hot pizza from the carton. We’d talked about having dinner together before I agreed to meet GreenFire tonight, and I hadn’t wanted to cancel on them. We had to be really quick. “Now I can fuss around you and annoy you face-to-face, not just over the phone.”
Dylan pulled me into a half hug, kissing the side of my head. “You’re never annoying.”
Ian laughed. “I’ll remind him he said that next time he says you fuss too much.”
“Yes, please do.” It had always been my dream to live in New York City. Our sister, Josie, moved here when she was still in high school, but I only made the move last year. And Ian and Dylan had only officially moved last week to open a subsidiary of their software company.